


Blacklight Lamp

by AbyssalPen



Series: The Sinner's Path [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Mild Gore, Other, POV Second Person, Short, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27186052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbyssalPen/pseuds/AbyssalPen
Summary: You are a sinner, recently sent to Hell for what you did in your previous life. You have no home, you have no job, you have no friends. You've been living on the street for roughly what feels like a month. One day, you need to get yourself some food, and meet someone new...
Relationships: Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Series: The Sinner's Path [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140920
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	Blacklight Lamp

Blacklight Lamp  
By Abyssal Pen, 2020

A Valentino x Reader Fanfiction  
All Hazbin Hotel Characters are Property of Vivienne Medrano (@Vivziepop) and Spindlehorse Studios

This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18+, and any similarities to any situations, locations, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Enjoy the story.

———————————————————

Hell is an ugly place. A wide spanning mass of concrete behemoths amidst an arid and barren landscape of maroon rock, blanketed by a crimson sky. Day and night, rain or shine, this monolith of metal and concrete stands at the ready as the welcoming place for all sinners when they die. Presided and ruled over by Lucifer Magne, the King of Hell, and Lilith Magne, his alluring Queen of Sinners, this is the place where one goes when they give into their desires and do as they please with their life. There's no dividing line. No order. You won't get help if you call out for it, and if you do, your help might be even worse than what you're already dealing with. That's just the standard for living in a place like this. It's a cat eat dog kind of place, filled with some of the worst souls that there were from the land of the living.

You may or may not be one of said souls. Your book of life was read through from top to bottom, inside and out, cover and plot summary, and whoever was flipping through the pages was only able to make one decision from your example; you were a sinner. So, here you are. Pentagram City; the largest known body of sinners in all the Nine Circles. A sprawling cityscape of towering buildings and wanton debauchery. Drugs, sex, alcohol, you name it, it was here, in ready supply, and more often than not, sitting pretty in a vending machine, just waiting for you to get your pretty little hands on it. But you weren't dumb. At least, you'd like to think that you aren't. You weren't one to accept handouts, and you definitely didn't trust half the greasy sleezeballs that passed by you on the street, picking you apart like a critic with a fresh cut of meat on their plate. But sometimes, it's not the ones that look bad that are dangerous. Sometimes, it's the ones that look good.

It was a particularly chilly night in Hell. Whether it was a joke on behalf of the royals, or it was just that time, the temperature of daytime slowly dwindled away to nothing but the dull, aching chill of the night air as the sky, lit by the ever present pentagram above the city, slowly turned from crimson, to burgundy, to black. Streetlights and car headlights the only things to cast light into the shadows that beckoned from the narrow spaces between buildings and the alleyways that lacked any sort of comfort. You hadn't been here all that long, so you hadn't really gotten a good handle on how to fend for yourself here, aside from swiping things here and there from this demon or that one, making ends meet no matter how you had to go about it.

Tonight, you slipped up. While you were passing by a food stand, your hand lifted at just the right time to yoink a hot dog of questionable quality (and even more questionable ingredients) from a nearby cart. Taking off into a sprint as soon as you had that measly morsel tucked tentatively between your claws, bolting down the street, as the loud, anger filled tones of the cart's patron, a dog demon that looked like a rottweiler that was missing most of one ear, started to chase after you. Now, by all rights, you were ahead of him, and you were putting in your all, but sometimes, dumb luck just happens to get in your way.

You take a glance over your shoulder, and even though you had left him easily a semi's length behind you when you started out, your pursuer was quickly closing the distance between you. At this range, you could make out the tear in his ear, the way one of his eyes was mismatched with red and black, how sharp his teeth were as he barked a cacophony of anger fueled insults at you. You rounded the corner once you made it to the end of the block, and just when you were sure you might have a chance to get away, dumb luck reared its ugly mug at the worst possible time.

Back when you were alive, you'd gone on walks and noticed how fucked up sidewalks could be. Sometimes they were cracked and chipped, jagged lines curling over concrete tiles on the ground. Other times, they were uneven, the sudden gaps where they were slightly raised or slightly lower than the last or the next. That was just how they worked really, nothing was perfect, but this couldn't have been a worse time for things to not go perfectly. As you came bolting around the corner, you felt that familiar sensation of shoe nose coming to a sudden and, if you're honest with yourself, moderately painful stop. Toes crunching inwards as any semblance of balance you had flew to the wind, much like the food that you were risking your afterlife to obtain, that hot dog, followed shortly after it by you, catching airtime. The only fundamental difference was, the hot dog, as far as you knew, didn't feel pain. But with how fast you had been running, and subsequently, with how fast you had come to a stop, you hit the ground hard. Twisting just slightly too far to the side as you plunged towards the ground, your shoulder made impact with solid concrete, a crunch and audible crack hitting your ears and sending a jolt of seering pain through your shoulder and down the limb that was attached to it. You let out a scream as you felt the sensation race through your body's nerves, electrical signals shooting out to pain receptors as you slowly started to haul yourself up, the sleeve of your outfit torn slightly from the impact, and the faintest traces of fresh blood slowly starting to well up and form over the fresh abrasions that had come from your impact with the ground. Had it not hurt so much, you would have already been moving again, but as you felt a presence behind you, and the biting sting of a shoe nose connect with your side, you knew that wasn't going to be happening.

The sharp pain in your shoulder slipped from your mind, as did your knees from under you, as that kick to your side knocked you onto your side. Your ill begotten dinner lying condiments down on the ground five feet away from you, a spatter of red and yellow underneath the warmed bun, as the rottweiler demon stood above you.

"Where the fuck do you think you're goin', ya little thief? You thought you were gonna cop one'a my dogs without payin' for it?!?" The black furred demon bellowed down at you, teeth bared and jaws snapping forcefully with every venom-drenched syllable that escaped from between black lips. A foot lifted, before suddenly swinging inwards, making a solid connection with your gut. The impact drove the air from your lungs and sent a spray of spittle flying from your mouth, as pain coarsed, renewed, through your abdomin. Were you not piss-terrified of the hot dog vendor's ire at the time, you might even have been thankful that you didn't vomit from how hard he kicked you. But the look on his face, in those mismatched eyes that only seemed to narrow more and more the longer he maintained eye contact with you, said that he was fixing to do much worse to the petty thief that had tried to rob him.

As before, that foot lifted, and then struck out, this time heel first, right into your ribcage. Breathing was suddenly impossible for a moment, as if you were choking on the air as it was driven from your lungs. After that, he seemed to get bored of kicking you, so the canid demon lifted that foot, and lifted to push the heel down on your cheek. Slowly grinding it down against your face as his twisted his ankle back and forth slowly. Eyes narrowed toward you, as he practically cleaned his shoes off on the side of your face. It was only a miracle to you that you didn't lose consciousness from the beating you were receiving, but this was also a valuable lesson for you; in Hell, getting caught comes with a price. You were gonna die, you were sure of that. You'd seen demons get their heads caved in, you'd heard about the purge that happened every year, you knew it was possible. And as that hot dog peddler lifted up his foot, but didn't change trajectory, you were positive that you were about to experience death for a second time.

But it seemed that someone was watching over you. Because instead of the sharp sound of your own skull being kicked in with the dirt covered heel of the angered demon dog above you, there was first the sound of tired coming to a sudden and abrupt halt, an ear splitting "BANG!" and a scream of pain and fury, as the dog demon that just a moment before was standing over you was now on the ground, his shoulder opposite yours suddenly making the minor scrape of your tumble look minute by comparison. A hole big enough to jam easily half of your hand into now took up the space that a sizable amount of his shoulder once did. Gore, viscera, and faint smatterings of bone and tendons, tissue and marrow dotted along the wall and pitter pattered out of the wound that the salesman was now trying to staunch the bleeding of as he laid in a heap on the ground. You didn't know much about demon biology, but you were sure he wasn't using that arm again for a long time at best.

Turning your attention towards the road, mind fogged with a haze of dizzy half-beaten thoughts, your eyes came to settle on a car. But this didn't seem to be just any car. Somewhere between a caddilack and a limousine, the red road machine that was parked in the street rumbled faintly, as your eyes trailed backwards along the length of it, before finally they caught sight of a thin trail of smoke that wafted from the rose colored barrel of a handgun. Following that line of focus, your eyes trailed down to see who you presumed to be your savior. Towering above you, easily ten to fifteen feet, was a demon that you hadn't seen before. Easily nine, if not ten-plus feet tall, your eyes were met with a long red and white coat that barely covered long black heels underneath, trailing upwards white fluff that was dotted with small red hearts, to blue skin and crimson eyes, framed behind hot pink heart lenses that were surrounded by gold. You couldn't help yourself as, even while trying desperately to catch your breath, you let out a short puff of air.

He was gorgeous.

"Hey there, Babycakes... you look like you could use a lift."

———————————————————

Stepping into the cab of the elongated vehicle was like stepping into a whole other world. Vibrant magenta lights filled the interior with a soft glow, like a neon color midsummer dream, filled with the smell of smoke and whiskey, with seats covered in red leather that was comfortable but firm. Sitting on the left side of the demon who had introduced himself as Valentino, you weren't exactly sure what to say. On the one hand, he had come and spared you from having your head pounded into cannibal feast on the pavement. On the other hand, he seemed to have no trouble with shooting someone else with little to no provocation. Nonetheless, at least on the inside of the car, you were able to take the time to check yourself over; the abrasions on your shoulder and arm were light, if not still slightly stinging when they came into contact with your clothes or the air, and while your cheek had some light bruising, your side and stomach had suffered the worst of it, black and shades of purple crawling over your stomach and side in sharp contrast to the color of your flesh. A dull ache running through you at the feeling of the wounds starting to drip into your mind as the adrenaline started to fade from your system, replaced with pain and hunger.

As disgusting as it probably was, you found yourself remembering the hot dog that you had dropped, laying discarded not far from that dog like demon on the sidewalk of the city. Maybe somebody would still walk up and decide to take it for a free meal? Lucifer knows, if not the hot dog, the demon wouldn't get very far if someone unpleasant stumbled upon him. But, alas, your thoughts of wasted food and indigestion were ripped from you, as the large demon beside you piped up.

"Oof... damn, baby, looks like that fuck really roughed your pretty self up some, huh?" That voice was hair raising, like smoked charcoal in audible format, homey and soft but with a low rumble that stirred whatever blood that wasn't painting a macabre picture across your abdominal region straight to your face. Taking a glance up at him, you assure him that it's not as bad as it looks. Of course, you're not exactly being honest with him, but it really could have been much worse for you. At least your head was in tact. There's the faintest twitch of the left side of his lip upwards, a soft facsimile of a smile that crossed his features and made him seem soft despite his size and tone.

"I'm glad to hear that, doll. I'm sure that nobody would be happy if a pretty little thing like you was layin' there on the ground."

Slowly, carefully, an arm moves to settle itself around your shoulders, doing what he can to stop from touching the part of your shoulder where you had been examining. At first, you considered pulling away, but in the state you were in? You were tired. You were winded. You were actually pretty damn exhausted, overall. So, with little coaxing beyond that, your figure leaned to the side and slowly rested your head against the soft red and white of his jacket. Your sense of smell immediately becoming flooded in the scents of stale smoke, liquor, and the faintest touch of pineapple. A loud rumble of your stomach draws his attention, dragged from you by the sudden comfort you found yourself enjoying despite your injuries, and he chimes in once more.

"Hmm? You hungry, babydoll? Sounds like you haven't eaten in a while." Fingertips run over your good shoulder, soothing you somewhat in conjuncture with that dulcet tone of his, as well as the strangely familiar scent that clung so tightly to his personage. You try to persuade him that you already ate, but he can see your through your feeble, starved attempts to dodge what your body needs, and though you don't have the guts to say it out loud, he doesn't seem like the type to be in any sort of short supply of cash. What does come out of your mouth is a hushed little mutter of thanks towards him, as he called to the front, telling the driver to take you both to the usual place. So, with that, there really was no arguing with what Valentino wanted. You weren't one to complain about a free meal, after all.

Not even five minutes later, that red vehicle whips into the drive thru of a familiar building; WcDonald's, Hell's finest for fast, cheap food. It's a fairly simple choice for both of you, your sultry savior getting the Big Wac, while you just got a couple of chicken sandwiches, not wanting to impose on your imposing acquaintance. You hadn't even noticed how hungry you were at first until you took your first bites, and then quickly found yourself devouring both of them with complete impunity, careful not to make a mess in the car. Similarly, when you looked to him, Valentino seemed to be trying to shovel the whole of his comparitively huge burger into his mouth. You could barely help yourself as you let out a loud cackle at the sight before you, the well dressed demon quirking a brow at you as you kept laughing like mad. That was probably the first time that you had come even remotely close to laughing while you were in Pentagram City.

As you both started to ride through the streets once more, the question finally came from him of where you live. You were pensive, but there didn't really seem to be any point in trying to lie to him. Either you were really bad at telling lies, or he was really good at telling when you were lying. One way or another, you tell him that due to being relatively new around here, that you hadn't managed to secure a place for you to actually stay at, so you'd been breaking into empty apartments, and trying not to get caught in the process. Plus that one time you slept in a trashcan, but... you quickly learned just how vile people here could be when someone used your shelter as a back alley urinal. Thankfully without getting on any you.

He sat there and listening to you talk about your experiences so far in hell, and after a few moments of pensive silence, he opened his mouth, ready to speak.

"Well, then, Babycakes... how about this...? I know about this motel around here. Dirty cheap, enough where you could live out of it for barely anything. I'll help you cover it, for now, until you can pay for it yourself, and I'll even offer you a job as my personal secretary. How's that sound, doll?"

You can barely believe what you just heard come out of his mouth. A mix of shock of surprise overwhelmed you as he not only was offering you a place to sleep, but a job as well. A chance to get yourself out of the streets and into a bed with some blankets and sheets. Against your better judgement, you couldn't pass up that kind of deal. You told him that you would like that. He let out a faint chuckle, though the reason for it was largely a mystery to you.

"Well, then it sounds to me like we have a deal, babydoll." Slowly, a black glove clad hand reached out before you, offering with palm flat. You take this as a sign to shake hands with him, to seal the deal. The second that your hands meet, his hand and yours swirl with power, and a ghastly red cyclone of smoke that seemed to materialize from out of nowhere. Then, just as soon as it started... it was over. The red smoke blew away with a gentle rush of wind, and that was all there was to it. Lifting your hand up somewhat, he leaned down, and blue lips pressed against the top of your hand. Your face flushing with color once more.

Things were finally starting to look up for you here in Pentagram City...

The End...?  
———————————————————

Thank you for reading this far! I don't really do these kinds of stories all too often, but uh... I truly hope that you enjoyed it, for what little is really here. I'm gonna be working on doing more works like this in the near future, so keep an eye out for more, posted to my Twitter (@AbyssalPen).

I might make a sequel to this at some point soon, depending on the general reception to this, this was mostly just to test the waters, as well as to give someone that I look at as a friend and inspiration a gift.

Written for LhanaGator, @lhana666, you are a great person, and I hope that despite how short this story was, that it brings a smile to your face and some warmth to your heart.

\- Abyssal Pen

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Character/Reader Story. Please, if you see any changes that need to be made or have something I might need to work on when writing, let me know in the comments, so I can do better next time.
> 
> Thank you for you time, and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
